


Smoke and Nectar

by Mystyrious



Series: Wildfire [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drama & Romance, Explicit eventually, M/M, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystyrious/pseuds/Mystyrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation from 'A Touch from Fire' which is set Haven/pre Haven.</p>
<p>Now we're in Skyhold and Roycen Trevelyan is busy finding his feet as the newly appointed Inquistor and battling his own demons, all while trying not to get distracted by a certain Tevinter mage. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, something strange is happening to the anchor. Something which threatens to undo all the work Roycen has done so far.</p>
<p>Dorian and Solas are on the case, but will the truth of the matter bring the hope which the Inquisition desperately needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Nectar

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned, this is a continuation from 'A Touch from Fire' and part of the 'Wildfire' series. 
> 
> The plan is to be a bit more fast paced in this section. We shall see.
> 
> Feel free to share your thoughts. I don't bite. Much.

**Intruders**

“... Our Inquisitor! Trevelyan!”

Cassandra thrust Roycen’s arm into the air to a mix of raucous cheering and the braying of animals in the courtyard below Skyhold’s fortress.Battered survivors from Haven stomped and whooped with all their remaining energy. Mages sent whizzing sparks up towards the balcony on which Roycen and Cassandra stood. The Inquisition soldiers bashed their shields, taking up a chant which sent Roycen’s head spinning:

                “ _BOOM!_ Inquisitor! _BOOM!_ Trevelyan!”

                Their exhilarated Inquisitor turned behind him, where the rest of his inner circle stood to attention at the wall of the fortress. He gestured them forward enthusiastically. This was their victory too.

                Cullen marched forward to take his place at Roycen’s side, every inch their shining commander. Roycen peered happily up at Cullen, now saluting the crowd below. Blackwall too peered over the edge of the balcony, swallowing deeply as if he would much rather be fighting Red Templars again. The Iron Bull stationed himself behind Blackwall, preventing the Warden’s retreat.

                Cassandra was giggling behind her gauntlets, watching Varric jostle from foot to foot for a better view into the courtyard. Sera didn’t try to hide her bursts of laughter at the sight. The elation was catching and Roycen was soon fighting to restrain laughter.

                It suddenly dawned on the twenty year old that appearances would be all the more important now he had been named Inquisitor (especially as he was the youngest of the inner circle). Even Sera was two years older than him, although she acted about twelve on a good day.

                Roycen Stepped back from the stone ledge of the balcony, fingers trembling slightly. The din of the people below was suddenly overwhelming.

                Thousands of hands spread towards him.

                And they all believed he him to be the antidote to all that was currently wrong in Thedas.

                They all believed he would save them all from the terror of Corypheus. But in reality, he had barely escaped from the darkspawn magister.

                The only reason he wasn’t already dead somewhere out in the Frostbacks was... Dorian. The Tevinter mage was here too, of course. He performed a practiced wave to the crowd, chuckling as if not quite believing what he was seeing.

                Dorian’s involvement in Roycen’s rescue had done wonders for the Tevinter’s reputation. Both in the masses and within his inner circle. Roycen still didn’t understand exactly what the Tevinter had done. But the facts were that while he was lying unconscious, mentally in the Fade, Dorian had somehow joined him and brought them time to be rescued. He also knew that Dorian had put himself at great risk to do so.

                Roycen wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to forgive the Tevinter, or himself. He had after all insisted Dorian stay with him the night following their ordeal, against all better judgement.

                Although if Roycen was completely honest with himself, giving into exhaustion while wrapped in Dorian’s arms was nothing short of bliss. However it had come as a shock when Roycen woke in the middle of the night to find Dorian gone.

                Roycen forced his thoughts back to the present. He was the Inquisitor now and couldn’t afford to be thinking about these distractions.

                Unfortunately, when Roycen smiled down at the crowd once more he could only think of all those who had been lost at Haven. The wounds were fresh for everyone, and as Roycen looked again at the faces of his companions he could not help but wonder... _Now that he was Inquisitor, how many more of his friends would risk their lives for him?_

Roycen found his clutch on the rough stone ledge tightening as his friends’ jubilant expressions melted into visions of his worst nightmare.

_Blood leaking from the corner of Sera’s toothy grin... Varric closing Cassandra’s lifeless eyes... blood spreading like ink from her cracked skull..._

                Roycen stumbled into Cassandra in his rush to flee the balcony.

                “Inquistor, are you well?” The Seeker asked.

                “Just need some air,” he breathed, not daring to look her in the face.

                “But you’re outside...” Her voice was high with concern.

                “I-I...need...”

                Noticing Roycen’s distress, Dorian took three long strides to reach the Inquisitor’s side.

                “Is the show over?” he asked without waiting for a reply. Dorian had already placed a light hand on Roycen’s upper arm, guiding him back towards the fortress. “You’re right, Inquisitor. it is far too cold to stay out here!” Dorian stated loudly at the moment everyone else took notice to Roycen’s sudden departure. “Not to mention that if you let them gape much longer, the stonemasons are like to start a life-size sculpture.” The Tevinter’s voice dropped lower as they reached the oak door back to the main hall. “Although who could blame them?”

                Roycen murmured incoherently, trembling fingers hidden in the pockets of his robes.

                Dorian sighed. Loud enough for Roycen to take notice, but not for the rest of the inner circle who were now also filing into the main hall to hear.

                Before Roycen could reel in his emotions, the quick clapping of Josephine’s shoes got everyone’s attention.

                “Good news!” she announced brightly to all assembled. “Although this hall is an obvious exception,” she glanced distastefully at the heap of boulders at the end of the vast room, “there are plenty of habitable structures to house us all. “It will hardly be a life of luxury. Not _yet_. But I have managed to assign suitable rooms. Inquisitor, right this way!”

                Roycen left the others to trot duly after Josephine. The ambassador chattered excitedly about the plans she had for this space. It was hard to imagine the boulder strewn hall bedecked with banners, chandeliers and feast tables as Josephine envisioned, but if anyone had the resolve then it was Josephine. Already a mob of civilians were sweeping eons of dust and debris with twig brooms. The pair had just passed a group clearing rubble from a door when Josephine shoved open a door on the opposite side, revealing a winding staircase.

                Roycen’s boot has barely touched the first flagstone step when he heard a shout from behind.

 

* * *

 

                By the time Roycen and Josephine reached the source of the noise, the group clearing rubble from the door had scarpered. A lone figure remained in the now open doorway.

                “Bull?” Roycen called. He noticed with alarm that Bull was bent over almost double in the doorway. There was no way to see past him.

                “BULL!” Roycen repeated, thumping him between the shoulders with his staff. The Qunari gave no indication that he even felt the blow.

                Sera and Cassandra had also noticed the commotion, along with a smattering of curious mages and soldiers. Although the civilians who had been clearing the rubble from this doorway were still nowhere to be seen.

                “Bull! Move aside or you give me no choice!” Roycen warned, unclasping his knarlwood staff.

                Roycen had just charged his staff with lightning magic when Bull finally turned to face him, breathing heavily and speaking in his native tongue.

                “’Maker’s balls! Speak _Common_!” Sera screeched. Others added their agreement.

                Eventually Bull started to make some sense between his rattling snorts.

                “ _Hrrrn_ -look at her- _hrrn_ \- Would you just look at her? _Hrrrn_.” He inhaled deeply. “I can taste—” but Roycen never learned what Bull could taste. The Qunari shifted and Roycen peered through the newly opened gap. The Inquisitor may have emitted a squeak on seeing _her_. But if he did, it was swallowed by the crowd’s reactions as Bull finally moved aside.

_“Fuck me. A DRAGON?”_

_“Maker save us!_

_“Andraste’s light will fight this darkness._ ”

_Andraste’s light_ was still frozen from shock. A pair of hands thumped at the small of Roycen’s back, sending him face first into the room – no... cave. The high dragon had seemingly made itself this home by ripping through the outer wall. Bitter mountain wind gushed in from the destroyed wall.

                With his face already bloodied by the shove onto the flagstone, Roycen found his feet beside the Iron Bull. Sera and Cassandra joined them. All four stared with baited breath at the white dragon rumbling in the centre of the room.

                No, not rumbling. _Asleep. It was asleep_. Roycen thanked the Maker.

                Only then, the dumbstruck crowd in the doorway burst into cacophony of echoing screams.

                The high dragon had woken.

                She raised her head groggily, piercing yellow eyes landing on the intruders. The dragon let out a snort which frosted the stone where it made contact.

                “That’s what I’m talking about!” roared Bull, charging with his axe raised. Cassandra swiftly followed, bellowing a battle cry while Sera hooked an arrow to her bow, swearing all the while.

                Roycen feared he had forgotten how to move, just as Varric and Dorian arrived on the scene, looking dishevelled but ready to fight. The combined _thrum_ of Varric’s crossbow and the furious roar of a fireball from Dorian swung Roycen into action. He drew deeply from the Fade, lending fire to Sera’s arrows and striking the dragon’s neck with flames of his own. But to little effect.

                Roycen could only keep casting and lending a fire enchantment to Varric and Sera’s weapons as Dorian and the two warriors did the real damage. The Tevinter’s fireballs drew the dragon’s attention, giving opportunities for Bull and Cassandra to slash at the dragon’s forelimbs.

                Bull roared as he plunged his axe into the leg leg, yanking it free just in time to dodge a jet of ice from the dragon’s maw. Cassandra landed swift cuts to the right leg, but had to sacrifice her shield when an icy attack cracked the steel in two. Still Cassandra did not relent, sliding under the dragon’s belly and finding wedging her blade between the armoured plates.

                The dragon shrieked, unfurling her veined wings and trying to take to the air. But there was nowhere to go. Bull, Cassandra and Dorian were blocking any escape to the mountains.

                Sera, Varric and Roycen closed in, further preventing the dragon’s movements and keeping up a relentless attack on all sides. But however much the others taunted, the dragon now only had eyes for Cassandra. Teeth, tail and claws all tried to gain purchase on the Seeker, whose sword was still lodged between the dragon’s scales.

                All of a sudden the dragon stopped flailing, slipping slowly into a pool of its own blood. Bull rushed in to land the killing blow while Dorian charged a fireball just to make sure.

                The fireball veered wide as the dragon rolled, swiping the Qunari aside with her tail. The dragon opened her mouth in Cassandra’s direction, preparing another icy attack. Roycen darted in close, drawing on the Fade like never before. The young mage sent a hot rush of energy to intercept the dragon’s icy breath.

                Instead of ice, steaming droplets rained down on Cassandra, who wasted no time in reaching forward to thrust her lodged sword deeper still into the dragon’s belly, while the largest yet of Dorian’s fireballs knocked the dragon off its feet. The dragon scrabbled towards the open wall, moments away from freedom. But Bull was still down. Dorian needed time to charge another spell. Cassandra was too far away. Arrows and crossbow bolts ricocheted uselessly off the white scales.

                In a moment of madness, Roycen dropped his staff and roared, leaping onto the dragon’s neck. A dagger in hand and body pulsing with mana and adrenaline, Roycen plunged the now searing hot dagger into the dragon’s neck. A hot gush of blood instantly soaked Roycen’s thighs as Bull finished the job, cleaving the dragon’s skull with a blood curdling roar.

 

* * *

 

 

                What followed next was a blur of elation. Josephine, who had held back from the fight, was now reigning over the corpse, telling anyone who would listen how many bags of oats a single quart of fresh dragon blood could buy. Meanwhile, the Bull was busy bashing heads with his fellow combatants. Roycen’s forehead was still sore and Dorian’s hands were desperately working to smooth his hair after receiving the same treatment.

                The strange thing was that despite his head pounding from Bull’s headbutt and despite his legs being bruised and drenched in dragon blood, Roycen felt better than he had since before Haven fell.

                He had finally held his own among his more experienced companions.

                When battling rifts it was always the anchor which turned the tide of battle, not him. His people might cry “Trevelyan”, but it was the anchor they really cheered for. It had been starting to feel like that’s all he was and ever could be.

                _I will be more,_ Roycen promised himself as he looked around at the relieved faces of his companions. _I will not make them regret their trust in me._

       

* * *

 

                As much as Josephine was delighted by what the dragon meant for the Inquisition coffers, the ambassador was also insistent that Roycen make up for lost time. Next on the Inquisitor’s list was Leliana. The parchment informed him that she was at the top level of the rotunda.

                Roycen briefly acknowledged Solas who was busy unpacking on the ground level, but couldn’t help smiling on seeing Dorian on the next level. The Tevinter was sprawled sideways across a plush chair with an open book in his lap.

                Roycen figured Leliana’s business could wait a minute.

                They had both changed since their encounter with the dragon. Dorian was now wearing the lavish black and gold tunic which Roycen had once stolen for a prank. He had to admit that it looked much better on Dorian sculpted shoulders.

                “Found anything interesting?” Roycen asked.

                “Not particularly,” Dorian said, looking up from the page. “But I thought I may as well read one good book, before the next beast tries to kill me.”

                Roycen rolled his eyes and glanced about. Half of the floor was devoted to bookshelves. Not long ago he had spent most of his free time in the Circle library. His younger self would be eagerly perusing the shelves, but lately there had never been time. Now more than ever. He really should be getting to Leliana...

                “I could use another pair of hands,” Dorian said, noticing Roycen smiling absently towards the bookshelves. The Tevinter’s grey eyes fixed on Roycen’s, who realised he would like nothing better than to spend an hour together discovering this collection.

                However, Leliana was expecting him. And then Mother Giselle wanted to see him about replacing the healers lost at Haven. And Josephine needed him back to authorise a redrafted proposal for the hall. Her plans were now even more ostentatious with an entire dragon to sell off.

                “Busy, I’m afraid,” Roycen admitted.

                “Ah. I won’t keep you then.” Dorian lowered his eyes to the book once more, as if it made no difference at all to him.

                But Roycen was not fooled. The Tevinter’s eyes were barely moving as he ‘read’.

                “Another time, I promise,” Roycen said. And he meant it. “It’s just I’m run off my feet at the moment. I’m meant to be upstairs with Leliana and even then there would need to be two of me to get everything done on the list Josephine set out.”

                Dorian looked up from the pages, as if surprised to see Roycen was still there.

                “Well then, you’ll be glad to hear that I employed some of your strapping soldiers to locate the cellar in this wind-forsaken fortress. Slaying a dragon does make one thirsty for something more fiery than ale.”

                “And they _listened_?” Roycen asked.

                “Yes!” Dorian’s grey eyes danced with delight. “And off they trotted like a pack of well-trained mabari. Not to mention the blacksmith gifted me a pair of gloves to combat your awful climate. And he spa _t_ at me when first we met.”

                Roycen’s face fell into a frown.

                “If I’d have known-” he murmured.

                “-All in the past. Anyway, you Southerners are all bark and no bite.” Dorian reached over to poke him in the chest. “And you, Inquisitor Trevelyan, are the worst of the bunch.” Dorian looked him over quizzically, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”

                _Yes_ , Roycen remembered. So much for not getting distracted.

 

 


End file.
